


Let's misbehave!

by EnterWittyNameHere



Series: The Cannibal and the Canary [5]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Alcohol, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Asexuality is a spectrum, Biting, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Reader, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Reader is a hot mess, Touch Adverse Alastor, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Very Mild Gore, backstory crammed in there, thats right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnterWittyNameHere/pseuds/EnterWittyNameHere
Summary: We're all alone, no chaperoneCan get our numberThe world's in slumberLet's misbehave...In which Reader simply wants to drown her sorrows, but a certain incessant Radio Demon has other plans in mind.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Series: The Cannibal and the Canary [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689610
Comments: 4
Kudos: 150





	Let's misbehave!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back my deers!
> 
> I wrote part of this and then realized I needed to flesh out some of the backstory a little more for it to make sense. So if this reads a bit choppy, it just is.  
> This little peek takes place shortly after dear Reader arrives at the Happy Hotel, but years since you've last set eyes on Alastor. Alastor's asexuality is grey at best in this, although one could argue he's within the spectrum. However, please read the tags! 
> 
> Again this is purely self-indulgent, isolation-anxiety induced writing. Unbeta'd and questionable in nature, as always!

You weren't sure what you expected from the Hotel, with its run down interior and questionable state of repair, but as you eyed the bubbly Princess practically bouncing around the lobby, you found yourself rather sold on the idea. 

It had been Charlie herself who had answered your knocks, although Vaggie had been close behind. The Princess had been so excited to see a potential guest, she had immediately launched into her spiel. Vaggie, meanwhile, had eyed you a little too closely for your own liking, her eye lingering on your twisted antlers longer than made you comfortable. 

“Well, that's about all, I know it's not much, but we'll get there!” Charlie's enthusiasm was catching. You could feel yourself smiling to match. “Unless you wanna hear it in a song?!”

You coughed feebly, “No, no thank you. I-ah, I caught it earlier. Very, uh, entertaining, your Highness.”

“Oh please, call me Charlie!” The blonde chirped. “And well, that's Vaggie as I said. I suppose you should meet the rest-”

“Unless you're just here to mock us,” Vaggie crossed her arms. 

You shook your head, ears twitching slightly at the accusation. “No, I'm genuinely interested. Can it really be done? Can you really redeem souls?”

“Welll...” Charlie stammered, bracing her fingertips together. “It hasn't actually happened yet, but I just know with the right help, someone will be able to change!”

Vaggie stared at you expectantly.

“Um, well,” You shuffled your feet, suddenly rather embarrassed to tell your story. How could you even begin to explain the last several decades-

“My sister isn't here, which I'm thankful for, but...” You blurted, fiddling with the hem of your modest dress. You weren't one for sharing your secrets; sentimentality usually got you Erased down below the ground. “She was only nine, wh-when I...uh...passed. I-I miss her very much.” 

You cleared your throat of the lump that suddenly formed there.

“Why did you end up here then?” Vaggie questioned, her gaze hardened. She was an odd one, completely opposite of the Princess standing next to her. Charlie's eyes were glazed with the beginning of tears, seemingly caught up in your distress. 

You gave a bitter snort, “I was murdered by...well, it doesn't matter. Point is, I was a patsy and some boob tricked me into eternal damnation.” You lifted your arms, so your sigils were more visible. 

“Those look familiar...” Charlie trailed off, one claw tapping her chin, squinting so her button nose scrunched in an all too adorable manner. You felt a sudden rush of sisterly-like affection for her. 

Perhaps sensing the attention, you felt your shadows begin to form, but with a subtle twitch of your fingers, you coaxed them to stay away. No need prompting more questioning before you had a chance to prove yourself. You cleared your throat again and nervously rubbed your arms, the attention on your markings making your cheeks heat. They certainly weren't something you were fond of. 

“Why don't we introduce you to the others and show you around a little bit? If you think you'd like to check in at the end, we'd be so happy to have you!” Charlie bounced on the balls of her feet, motioning you forward with a wave. 

You were shown into the great hall, where at the end of the room, surrounded by an array of bottles and pints of alcohol was none other than

“Husk?!” You blinked. You hadn't set eyes on the feline demon in at least twenty years. 

“What? Ooh shit, kid.” Husk growled, looking you over blearily. He had obviously been indulging on the clock. “Don't tell me that son of a bitch got you dragged into this shit?” 

“Beg pardon, but... what?” You reached the bar, where you and Husk eyed each other. The last time you had seen him, it had been during some cockamamie turf war, when you both had been with-

“OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH, this is just AMAZING!” A shrill, energetic voice sounded next to you.

You sputtered, eyes snapping down, “Niffty?! I-I, what-?”

“Ooh, I haven't seen you in forever!” Niffty continued, bouncing on her thin legs, her single, large eye darting around, taking you all in. “You look, well, you don't so good, no offense, but that's nothing we can't fix!”

You glanced from the pint sized demon, back to Husk, and then over to where Charlie and Vaggie stood, the latter with her arms crossed and a rather foul look on her face. 

“How do you know them?” Vaggie growled, her bow spiking in her apparent anger. 

You stomach turned to stone, and you were vaguely aware of your ears flattening as though in defense of what was sure to come. 

“Ah, we..umm...we're old business associates,” You tried to cover your falter by waving an airy hand about. 

Husk stared at you over the top of his bottle, red-rimmed eyes staring you down as though calling out your rather pathetic bluff. You knew that look to mean you owed him one.

“Ooooh” Niffty squealed, hopping madly about your feet. She gave your legs a hard squeeze, practically vibrating in her excitement. “Are you here on your own? Oh my goodness, that means-oh, he'll be so happy to see you! I told him just the other day we needed more help, this place is a mess, these two-”

“Niffty!” You cried, unable to keep the warning tone from your voice, desperate to cut off her rambling before she gave you away. “P-Please, we don't need to bore the Princess with my tale of misery.”

“Right...” Charlie trailed off; she too was now eyeing you with slight suspicion. You felt your stomach drop out from under your feet. If they put two and two together and realized just who your shared connection with Husk and Niffty was, you were sure they would promptly kick you out. And if you lost this chance, you'd never get to reunite with your family. 

You sighed, pursing your lips before turning to face the two fully. 

“Look, just like any other sinner down here, I'm not without my faults,” You started earnestly. “But I know my sister is in Heaven, maybe even my momma and daddy too. I-I'd like the chance to see them again, I-I...” You trailed off, shrugging. 

Charlie put a hand on Vaggie's shoulder, as though already sensing the other demon's growing resistance to having you as a guest. You caught the light squeeze Charlie gave, and the gentle lowering of Vaggie's tense shoulders. The open act of affection made the empty space behind your breast strangely ache. 

Charlie raised a soothing hand, “Well, hmm...we could always use a little more help around here. How does free room and board in exchange for some work sound?”

“With good behaviour!” Vaggie snapped. “You cause any shit and you're out. We have enough problems.”

You couldn't hide the relieved smile the broke across your face; Husk, Niffty and a certain problem momentarily forgotten. 

“I-I would...” You sighed, taking a breath to steady yourself against the abrupt rush of nerves that burst in your belly. If this really did work-

“I'm at your service,” You gave a short curtsy, grin blooming on your face. 

Niffty's resulting squeal made your ears promptly flatten in a wince.

***********

You would later muse that it was astounding that after almost a century of time in Hell, your naivety still apparently knew no bounds. At the very least, you weren't supposed to be in this position. True to your word, you had spent the last few weeks helping the Princess around her derelict Hotel. It was surprisingly hard work, but it was better than trolling the streets with nothing but your body on offer. How could you possibly be redeemed in the eyes of the Lord if you continued on peddling yourself on the back streets of Hell? Falling into some semblance of a routine within the Hotel lent growing optimism to your goal of final Redemption. You had hit a slight snag in your plan, however, when within a few days of your arrival, a certain sinner returned to the dwelling, having finished up his latest course of destruction and chaos.

Practically vibrating from the success of his most current broadcast, Alastor had been beyond ecstatic -even for him- when he saw the little Princess and her mission had succeeded in grabbing your attention. He had wondered if the draw of the promise of redemption would be too much for your torn and shattered soul to take. The idea of having you here, under his eye, was more than he had originally hoped for; however, a good plot twist always did make for good entertainment!

You both had locked eyes across the room, and before poor Charlie could make the proper introductions, your shadows had burst forth in such a violent manner that the entire foyer was shrouded in near darkness, instinctively offering you cover. You were able to hear his static swelling ominously, clearly not pleased with your idea of a pleasantries after so many years. Not wanting the confrontation, you had merely stepped through the shadows to your room.

This bought you precisely 24 hours reprieve, before you realized you couldn't rot away in your hotel room. The next time you saw him, he gazed at you through narrowed eyes from his station in the kitchen ( _of course the bastard was the cook_ ) but did not seek out your company.

Perhaps miracles could happen.

Regardless, you resolved to stay as far away from the Radio Demon as you could. You had a hunch you knew he was here for less savoury reasons, and the thought of your murderer once again keeping you from your true salvation was too much to bare. You busied yourself with helping Niffty tidy, or lending a hand to Vaggie if Charlie got too caught up in her sometimes outlandish, but always well-meaning, schemes. For the first time in a long time, you felt the affectionate pull to be with others. You had been a social creature when alive; your isolated lifestyle in Hell more a matter of survival than a preference. And despite the outward appearance of this motley crew, you quickly found yourself terribly fond of _most_ of them.

Your plan worked until one day when Charlie approached you and asked if you'd be willing to pick up a package from an associate for her. It was with large doe-eyes that she casually mentioned it was located outside of the Nine Circles, in an area well known even among the worst sinners as a _tough go_.

You had an inkling the Princess knew of your supposed powers, even the ones you had yet to openly share, as you did not utilize them often (instead, viewing your shadows more as your _babies_ than minions). Loath as you were to admit it, she was correct in thinking you would be the safest option; after all, you had roamed the Outlands for the last several decades before arriving at the Hotel.

Neither of you had expected Alastor to suddenly appear and offer his services, acting as a travelling companion and protection. You eyed him wearily, suddenly suspicious that perhaps he had been keeping tabs on you without your notice this whole time.

Charlie looked happily surprised at Alastor's good will - you felt distrust settle heavy in your gut. In the past you had tried to explain to Charlie just why you were so uneasy around the Radio Demon; however, you did not feel comfortable enough yet to divulge all your secrets. Instead, the Princess had waved off your concerns stating that _everyone_ found him creepy, but he seemed to be trying after all-

And so it was just outside of the Seventh Circle, wherein an old client recognized you and solicited your services, before realizing just _who_ was stationed at your side. It had been a few decades since you had witnessed first hand Alastor's true passion for pain and dismemberment. You watched warily as blood and gore stained the street, deciding it was safer to watch him in his madness from afar.

Task failed, you turned with a grimace and immediately began stalking back to the Hotel. Ignoring the suffocating radio static that followed you, you could focus only on getting back to the relative safety of the Hotel and perhaps sweet talking Husk into pouring you free drinks. You would explain yourself to the Princess in the morning, your focus for now being on erasing the last few hours of this particularly trying day.

You made sure to pick the gore from your antlers and toss your bloodied shoes before entering the foyer. You pushed past a curious Angel Dust without returning the spider's greeting, heading straight for the feline bartender.

_The sharp click of shoes behind you hinting at just who it was on your heels_

For if Husk was anything, he was a damn fine bartender. The drinks the cat demon shipped your way went down suspiciously smooth, particularly as time wore on. You were no stranger to numbing yourself through the sins on offer down here – and you were definitely in need of numbing, listening to Alastor prattle on – however, it was not until much later in the evening that you came to the sudden realization that you were in fact, for the perhaps the first time in your Afterlife, completely _up the creek_.

A blush flamed across your ashen cheeks, and shamefully you were unsure if it was from the copious amount of drink or the heat radiating from the Radio Demon shamelessly pressed incessantly to your side- your eternal punishment seemingly included harassment from the very person accountable for your demise-

_Both,_ your fuzzy mind supplied, as Alastor leaned his face perhaps a smidgen too close to be considered polite (He had seemed to match you, drink for drink). His fringe tickled the bridge of your nose, as he leaned a little too far down.

“You know, sweetheart,” He slurred, static clouding his voice to the point of near total distortion for a brief moment.

He straightened with an unnatural _crack_ and adjusted his monocle for a moment before clearing his throat. You bit your lip with one fang, keeping your giggle at bay. Husk gave a grunt of disgust, and with a snap of Alastor's fingers, the cat demon blinked out of existence, whisked off by the large portal that appeared beneath his clawed feet.

You blinked; you were rather fond of Husk, particularly his strong mixing skills.

With an all too charming chuckle, Alastor turned back to you, leaning his head on one palm, arm propped on the bar top. “It's been entirely too long, my dear! Why, we haven't seen each other in _ages!_ I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a such an entertaining stroll!”

“Yes, well,” You turned to face the now empty bar, sluggishly realizing through your haze that you were now in fact _alone_ in the great hall with Alastor. “And just who's fault is that?”

Alastor pressed a dramatic hand to his chest with his usual flair, “Darling, you truly do wound me so. How cruel you've become in your time down here.”

His grin stretched far too wide, making his red eyes squint with mirth, and a chill involuntarily ran down your spine.

“Hmm,” You tapped your claws against the bar top, “Well, let's see. Who challenged Vox in the first place?”

“Yes, well...” Alastor rolled his shoulders, sniffing at your implication. “It was so long ago, I'm afraid the particular details escape me!”

“Mhmm.” You hummed, smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

It had been a rather glorious battle. Vox certainly hadn't expected you to appear at Alastor's summons (that deal was the result of the last time you imbued yourself with alcohol, now that you thought on it). While two against one certainly hadn't been _fair_ , it had been a few years since you had last exercised your powers. Vox had been a formidable opponent to be sure, but your shadows had been gleeful in their destruction, joyful in reuniting perhaps with their fellows as they joined Alastor's shadows in the fray.

Pentagram City's skyline did look awfully pretty lit up and blazing...

“I couldn't get the smell of burnt metal out of my hair for weeks,” You huffed dramatically, your delicate Southern drawl on full display the more you indulged. “It was entirely too unladylike, Alastor, I stayed away simply out of good social graces.”

_(Twenty years)_

“Hmm, yes, as you were right to do, my dear. You always were such an enchanting belle, the life of any party!”

Your bitter laugh passed your lips before you could stop it, “Those days have long since passed.”

Alastor eyed you closely, his static growing louder momentarily before his daze seemed to pass. He sprung to his feet, graceful as always despite his own inebriated state.

“Nonsense, darling! You've simply had the wrong partners and who better to help you than I?” He offered you a hand, a single eyebrow raised in question.

You snorted and shook your hair back from your face, “No, thank you, Al.” You wobbled to your feet as if to prove your next words true. “I'm far from in a proper state for dancing.”

“Then permit me, being the gentleman that I am, to escort you to your room for the evening, little songbird.”

You found yourself jostled forward, Alastor's arm looping around your own and offering you extra support. As always, the emptiness in your chest lessened at his prolonged touch, your sigils flickering briefly. You both settled into a comfortable pace, considering the almost outlandish size difference between your forms. The hard liquor had long since had its affect on you, warmth radiating from your belly and your extremities sluggish. If the demon next to you noticed, he was polite enough not to call attention to your unrefined state.

It had been quite some time since you had simply allowed yourself to selfishly enjoy the strange thrill his company brought, loathe as you were to admit it. A tingle followed his hand's path as it moved from your elbow to wrap about your shoulders, serving only to pull you closer to his side. You knew of the blood shed by those very hands, both during his life and Afterlife; despite it all, the close proximity made butterflies swoop low in your belly.

The walk back to your room seemed to take both just a single breath and an absolute eternity, Alastor's arm slung rather loosely about your shoulders still, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he spoke. You murmured agreement here and there to appease him ( _lord, the man could talk)_ but your mind was struggling to come to terms with the heat that had suddenly pooled in your core and the tingle settling just under your skin. Given your line of work, you were certainly no stranger to the more carnal sins. You had died chaste, but Hell was unforgiving and you had debts to pay.

_Your momma was likely convulsing up on her cloud above like the angel she was, but there it was._

You had your suspicions as to the state of your static-emitting companion, given your prior experiences with the man and the gossip you had heard over the years in Hell. It was well-known that despite his reputation of being a deal maker, the infamous Radio Demon never truly had a partner below the ground. The thought strangely made some long forgotten feeling bloom in the pit of your stomach, and you were certain your cheeks flamed brightly despite your ashen skin tone.

_Damn Husk, damn the drinks!_ Redemption slipped further away as your thoughts turned...

You were so lost in thought that you didn't realize you had arrived outside your door until Alastor gave you a gentle shake, an all too knowing smirk upon his face. You shook him off with an affronted huff and stepped away from him, ready to simply slam the door in his face and collapse into bed, hoping sleep would end this whirlwind of emotions; however, he made one last attempt at grabbing your hand and this time, you simply stared down at where he laced his fingers with your own, your drink-muddled mind fighting a losing battle against your growing sense of need.

“Darling, I-” Alastor trailed off, waving his hand about as if hoping to snatch the proper words from mid-air.

You pinched the bridge of your nose (he was rubbing a soothing thumb across your knuckles, the absolute _bastard_ ) and shot him a withering look. Regardless, you didn't drop his hand, instead turning and opening your door. You pulled him along with you and it clicked closed behind you with a mocking finality. You clicked your fingers and soft lamp light swathed the room. Finally releasing his hand, you moved off to stand in the middle of the floor. You gave a meek shrug,

“Home sweet home. For now anyway.” You felt oddly ashamed of the almost-bare room, what few possessions you owned on display.

Alastor stood tall, head tilting in curiosity and his hands folded behind his back. What remained of your patience quickly vanished the longer he remained silent; you were far from in the mood for his asinine games. Just as you were about to grow irritated and kick him out, he stepped to you quickly. His great height compared to your short stature was more pronounced than ever, as you angled your neck up to meet his eye. He grinned down at you, one sharp claw coming up to trace the curve of your cheekbone.

“You truly are the most _magnificent_ creature,” He murmured softly, eyeing you in a way that made you squirm. He noted your reaction and coo'd your name, rubbing his nose along yours with surprising affection. It was heartbreakingly familiar, and your stomach clenched painfully.

“May I kiss you?”

You sputtered at his words, blush flaring to life on your face; his face was much too close; you could feel his lashes fluttering along your cheek...his monocle was colder than you expected...

He first fit his lips to yours so softly, you barely recognized the feeling. Your quick intake of breath allowed him to deepen it; he was cautious, hinting at his lack of experience. When you were both still among the living, you had exchanged affection (chaste as it had been), although it had been well over eighty years since you had last been in such an intimate position with the man.

Nonetheless, you quickly melted into his embrace and Alastor, emboldened by your response, pushed to move you against the nearest wall. Here, he propped himself above you and continued on with his affections. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, peppering surprisingly soft kisses downwards until he met the crook of your neck. With a sigh, your head lolled to the side. You felt his teeth press against your skin in a smile, and the fact that you were in a compromised position became clear. You gasped and hurriedly moved away from him. Your antlers contorted and grew outwards as an instinctual showcase of your strength. The room was suddenly too dark, too cramped...

His red eyes burned through the dim lighting of your room, staring as though you were a long lost treasure returned. Your ears flicked nervously, giving yourself away despite your best efforts. You chided yourself; in this particular instance, you surely had the upper-hand.

“Al,” You said his name so softly, his own ears fluttered to better pick up the sound. Emotion swelled deep in your sternum, the intensity burning. Tears prickled your eyes and you felt your antlers shrink once more. “What are we doing?”

Alastor straightened his bow-tie out of habit, “I believe there are many terms for it, dearest...”

Disembodied laughter rolled through the room. Your ears twitched at the sound.

He moved off to the side of the room; a snap sounded and he settled himself in the newly summoned high-back chair he favoured. He crossed his legs and watched you with poorly concealed greed, a predator lying in wait.

“No, Alastor,” You sighed. You could feel your lip quivering like you were a rosy-cheeked girl again, “You had no right...no right to, to do what you did.”

From his perch in the high-back chair his eyes flashed to radio dials for only the briefest of moments. It was enough time for the hair on your arms to stand on end, instinctively recognizing the danger that loomed before you. This man, this creature, _your_ _murderer_.

“I grow tired of this conversation, my dear.” Alastor made to stand, brushing the non-existent dust from his immaculate suit. His microphone twirled into existence, landing with a heavy thump on the floor.

“You may not agree with my methods, but it is undeniable. There was no need for my _lapse in focus_ to spoil all the fun we were having. But I'm a man who can roll with the punches. Oh yes indeedy, I had so many plans for us, my darling! All of Hell set at our feet, the sheer _entertainment_ to be had!”

“I don't belong here, Al!” You were sure of it. You had been led astray by a handsome face and the promise of something more, more than what your humble life topside had offered. “M-My family, they aren't here. I belong with them...” You gestured upwards with feeble hands. Even as you spoke the words, you saw Alastor's body language shift.

He adjusted his monocle and chuckled darkly, “You belong to me, little songbird. Your soul is no different from the others in my possession. You should be grateful for the leniency I've bestowed upon you over the years.” He winked into existence before you and grabbed your cheeks painfully. “You were always my _favourite_.”

At his close touch, warmth bloomed behind your breast where your heart once rested. His static raced along your skin, as though it contained a live wire. The sigils scattered across your body flickered to life, burning red in the darkness of your room. Still, you managed to move out of his embrace, shrugging your shoulders with a bitter finality.

“So you don't think it's possible for souls to be redeemed? That no one can change?” You blinked away hot tears.

Alastor laughed softly from behind you, cruel and dark. You heard his heels on the hardwood before he came to tower over you. The hand he placed on your head was mocking in its intent to offer comfort.

“No, no! That's just some silly daydream our dear Charlie has flitting about in that little head of hers. Our life before was our chance; there is no undoing what is done.”

A clawed finger rose to your cheek, catching the few lingering tears that had escaped you.

“Come now, darling. We have eternity before us and only our imaginations standing in our way!” Alastor flung his arms wide, his movements crazed from his intoxicated enthusiasm.

You were suddenly not in the mood for his theatrics, the buzz from your earlier drinks fading and replaced with cold numbness that started behind your ribs and flowed outwards to your fingertips. Your shadows murmured their concern in your ears, two or three of them forming to curl around your neck and shoulders. You indulged them for a moment, rubbing noses with a few of them, sniffling rather pathetically. Despite who their original master was, you adored them and the comfort they offered.

You spun sharply, fully intending to ask Alastor to leave and put an end to this little game, but the look on his face caused you to pause. His eyes were unfocused, as though he was staring right through you. Your eyes darted to his mouth; his lips ( _they had been so soft-)_ were slightly parted and in a moment of uncommon nerves, his tongue ever so slightly peeked out from between his front fangs, wetting his bottom lip. In a moment of insanity, you briefly wondered what it might be like to kiss him again, to nip at those lips until they bruised-

_your neck had bruised so easily_

_-_ to feel the sharpness of his teeth with your own tongue, baiting the beast he truly was. Sudden warmth bloomed in your belly once more, and you subconsciously pressed your thighs together to stave it off. _Handsome, smarmy bastard_. Perhaps you were still under the influence-

Alastor's radio shifted rapidly, cutting through your train of thoughts. He cleared his throat then, apparently becoming aware of his own dissociation. His hand flattened his already impeccable hair and adjusted the cuff buttons on his sleeves, before he turned his sight back on you. He stepped closer to you once more, although there was no sense of urgency to his pace, his hands folded behind his back.

With a rakish wink, he waved his microphone away and reached out to grab your wrists. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him to leave, to just let you rot in eternal damnation in peace, but you suddenly found yourself flush with the wall, arms pinned above you, Radio Demon looming over you with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. You bared your teeth at him, although it was an empty threat, excitement undeniably flaring in your chest. He chuckled, soft puffs of warm air hitting your face; his lips sealed over yours before your muddled brain had time to comprehend.

His lips were firm and confident against yours this time. Despite it all, you found yourself sinking into the kiss. Heat seared through your body and your hands drifted upwards, stopping just before making contact with his shoulders. You felt Alastor nod softly, but it was all you needed. You trailed your fingertips carefully over his broad shoulders, before you threw caution to the wind and delighted in finally sinking your claws into his soft hair. You traced patterns on his scalp, carefully circling the base of his antlers. He shuddered against you, his spine growing rigid. You immediately eased your administrations.

“You alright there, Al?” You breathed against his lips, your concern just barely cutting through the hazy fog of your mind.

His eternal smile twitched and he sighed hotly into your mouth, “Quite fine indeed, sweetheart.”

“A-Alright,” You stuttered. “If it's too much...”

His mouth surged against yours once more, his urgency evident,

(he remembered how your body had moved against his as a dance partner. He was curious to feel the difference now _)_

It was all you needed, as the last shred of dignity your good Southern breeding had gifted you flew out the window. Around you, the shadows swirled, cooing and sighing. In a moment of bravado, you allowed one hand to drift back to his chest and you gently pushed him back in the direction of the high-back chair. He fell back into it with entirely too much grace, eyes half-lidded and _glowing_ in the dimness, a self-satisfied grin about his face. You instinctively pressed your thighs together at the sight.

“May I undress you?” At least you maintained your manners.

A snap of his fingers took care of the chore for you and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. Now completely bare, his torso was well defined although his frame was still thin. Wiry muscles adorned his form. The black toned skin of his hands faded into the grey of his forearms, the colour which matched the rest of him. He had a scattering of scars, jagged and angry looking- although long healed-across his chest and upper arms. You frowned; you didn't recall him having those when you were alive.

“Dogs...” He muttered sullenly in response to your pause, radio dial eyes sparking to life in the gloom. He tilted his head to the side and his body began to hunch as though hinting at the horror within, hair beginning to crackle with rising static.

You reacted without much thought, grabbing hold of the hem of your simple dress and pulling it over your head. Next, your plain underclothes quickly puddled at your feet. Your curves on display before him was enough to snap him back into focus. Ever the smug bastard, a round of disembodied applause sounded in the air.

“Oh, hush now!” You chided him, swatting at him with a free hand while the other came bashfully to your chest in a feeble attempt to cover yourself.

You had been in various states of undress in front of him before, but not completely bare to his gaze as you were now. Moreso, it was rare for you to completely undress for the johns you served. Most of them were looking for a quick tryst, clothing shoved to the side or unzipped, never fully removed. You were hyper aware, despite the buzz from your consumption, of how unprotected you felt. Your shadows (and his, for that matter) seemed to have abruptly disappeared off into the night, perhaps knowing they would not be needed anytime soon.

Swallowing against the sudden dryness in your mouth, you reached him and carefully drew your legs over his thighs so you could press your chest fully against him. Alastor stilled again, slight interference spiking the air. You giggled softly, but remained still, allowing him time to either adjust to the feel of you or decide he had had enough. Eventually, you felt his muscles relax and you hummed.

You raised a hand then to hover over his bicep; his ears flicked once, twice, and you began sliding your hand up his arm, enjoying the feel of him. As if hinting at his true power, static electricity thrummed under your fingertips. He puffed out a single hot breath when your fingers reached the beginning of his scars. With a coy glance at him from beneath your lashes, you suddenly dug your claws into one of the scars, raking it with such fever that it opened and his pitch-coloured blood welled up. His laughter was almost too loud, and your flesh erupted in goosebumps. His large hands came to rest on your waist, yet he simply grinned at you, mouth almost impossibly wide. You truly were splendid when you allowed yourself to indulge...

Mind still hazy from the drinks and the events of the evening so far, you gave him a Cheshire grin to match his own. Feeling slightly validated, you turned your focus back to the task at hand; you very much wondered just how far you would get. Had you had a heart still, it surely would have been near to bursting as your eyes met his. He gazed at you through half-lidded eyes, grin hinting all too clearly at his unmistakable hunger; how often had you daydreamed about this exact moment back when you were a innocent, naive girl?

_May the Lord have mercy on your soul, but he was still so handsome despite the fiendish form_

A misguided sense of affection rose suddenly inside of you, and you hurried to bury the feeling by pressing your lips to his once more.

“Darling,” He purred against your mouth. He shifted restlessly beneath you, once again reminding you of the position you were in.

You peppered his face with small kisses, offering a slight distraction as your hand trailed down his flat stomach. His muscles quivered, and in a moment of nerves, his antlers gently knocked yours. Your fingers brushed the button on his slacks, and you shifted back enough to make eye contact. His pupils were blown wide, his nose flaring, his smile slightly strained. You remained quiet and still, knowing soon his need to simply _talk_ would give you the answer.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, his ears flattened slightly, and some deep sound rumbled from his chest. The sound of his radio filtering through the airwaves filled the room, just as his needle sharp claws trailed down to your hips. Looking very much out of place, he moved you to a more comfortable position, one that meant almost immediately your hips slotted together. You could feel him, firm and hot, even through the fabric that separated you two. He shifted again, as though chasing a particularly delicious bit of friction. You name fell from his lips in a soft stutter - _had he ever been this quiet-_

You clicked your tongue softly and reached between your bodies to free the button of his slacks from its clasp. A quick shift of your hips and a gentle palming of your hand had him settled at your slick entrance before he seemed to comprehend. A loud, shrill tone sounded, making your ears flatten against your hair. You shook your head as if coming out of a fog, and you lifted yourself upwards. Beneath you, Alastor panted, eyes now almost completely black. His grin twitched and morphed upon his face, ghastly and unnatural, his radio shifting rapidly. Your breath shuttered in your lungs, watching as he contorted into something more beastly beneath you. A small flicker of fear danced along your backbone.

You loathed the thought of pressing him to do this. You knew of his preferences, and he had certainly never shown any inclination of being interested in anything as common as _sex_ , both in his life before and his Afterlife so far. You made to move off of him, already thinking how to best move past what was quickly becoming awkward...

“I could use a cup of coffee...” You murmured, your drunken state evaporating instantly.

“No,” His voice was steady, bare of any radio static. “Please...show me.”

As if to further quell your hesitation, he slotted his mouth over yours once more and boldly dragged his claws up your bare arms. After the briefest pause he cupped one breast and the pad of his thumb ghosted over your nipple, causing it to stiffen in the evening air. You gasped into his mouth, and he repeated the action to your other breast, humming thoughtfully as he did so.

“Alastor-” His name escaped you in a sigh.

Taking the opportunity to act before all your nerves got the best of you, you once again settled against him. With the slightest downward tilt of your hips, you felt the head of his length press up into you. He was swollen and _hot,_ although without a good look you could only assume he was proportional to the rest of his lanky frame. His lips broke their seal and you greedily accepted the groan that passed his teeth. You sank slowly, allowing yourself to savour the stinging stretch of him, as you came to rest flush to his pelvis. You felt deliciously full; you experimented by fluttering your muscles around him, and were rewarded by his claws sinking into the flesh of your hips and his mouth dropping in surprise. His radio filtered so quickly, it emitted tinny clicks.

You leaned forward to press your dewy forehead against his own, sharing breath. All static disappeared from the air, the ghostly audience Alastor toted along with him long since rendered silent.

“Okay?” You traced his nose with your own, surprised at how he allowed you to continue to initiate contact in new ways. It made your hollow breast ache in a way you had yet to ever feel. His monocle was cold as it pressed against your face as he gave you a rather clumsy kiss in reply, thrown off by the new sensations washing over him.

Smirking at the thought of being the one to finally silence the notorious Radio Demon, you rolled your hips. He drew a sharp breath in over his equally sharp teeth, and his eyes grew wide. He stared in wonder up at you, no longer blinking but tracking your movement as though you were prey. You eased your way into a comfortable rhythm, the small twitches of his abdominal muscles and flaring of his nostrils the only signs that he was still with you.

You sighed his name again, rolling your pelvis so as to better chase the pressure building in your core. His hands flexed in place where they held tightly to your sides; his fringe occasionally tickling your chin. You ducked your head to kiss him again, and with a slight tilt of your head, you found you could deepen the kiss while still maintaining your pace. His claws tightened on your sides, and you were sure you would be marked.

The thought alone gave you a strange thrill, pushing you closer to the edge. He seemed to reach all the right spots and your head felt light. The heat that first bloomed in your belly back down in the Hotel's bar coiled and weaved tighter, causing your thighs to begin shaking. Your innermost core fluttered against him, and you felt him tense beneath you. You angled your hips a little more, allowing him to rub against that inner spot just right, your breath beginning to hitch as the pressure in your core grew.

Red eyes burning, his smile much too monstrous, Alastor suddenly lunged forward and sunk his teeth into the soft curve of your neck. He bit through your skin with ease and your blood burst onto his tongue; he only clutched you tighter, content to suckle at the open wound. His antlers cracked like thunder, and began twisting ominously outwards. Behind him, heinous and pitch-dark, his twin shadow contorted upwards, dangerous maw open. Static blared to life, and his claws grew sharper still, until you knew he was digging new scars into your flesh.

Your sigils flamed to life in response, your antlers snaking upwards to match his. Your skin buzzed as though touched by an electric current, and had you been in the frame of mind to, you would have noticed the air darken and then fill with sigils similar to the ones adorning your body. Although not as impressive, your twin shadow unfurled, hair whipping wildly, teeth bared in response.

Your blood stained his mouth when he pulled back, and you watched through hooded eyes as his own seemed to flicker into dials and back again; when his tongue came forward to lick the remaining drops from his lips, it was so obscene that you felt the pressure within swell and then burst, causing you to throw your head back and dig your claws into his shoulders while grinding your hips down on his lap. His name tumbled from your lips in praise, and he followed you, static growing so loud it emitted pressure against your eardrums. You felt his release, warmth blossoming between your legs; his radio cycled out into a harsh mechanical whine that seemed to echo before ending abruptly.

Somewhere, the whispered voices picked up again, chittering excitedly among themselves. An unknown breeze shifted through your sweaty locks, helping to cool the flame that seemed permanent upon your cheeks. Feeling your antlers begin to shrink, you moved gingerly to press your cheek to his, resting against each other with ease while your breathing returned to normal. You remained in sated, comfortable silence for a while until Alastor's antlers cracked back into place, and he shook himself as though to rid his form of any remains of his morph. He slipped from you then, and you felt an ache at the loss of contact. You moved to stand on still shaky legs, regarding him closely. A snap later and both of you had returned to your dressed state. You eyed each other, a unknown feeling creeping into your belly.

_Oh, if you weren't a sinner before..._

“That was quite the show, darling.” He drawled, resting a cheek in the palm of his hand. He remained seated, his breathing still a tad too quick; pride unfurled in your chest at the thought of having reduced _him_ to such a state. And yet-

“I shouldn't have done that!” You blurted.

A laugh track sounded, and Alastor rose to his feet, tugging the sleeves of his coat down and then adjusting his bow-tie.

“Don't undersell your set, dearest.” He looked you up and down. “Why, I rather expect there may be the occasional repeat performance.”

He gave you a roguish wink and you felt a blush warm your cheeks once again. Perhaps against your better judgment, you shyly returned the grin he gifted you.

“Now,” His microphone twirled to life in his hand. “I believe you mentioned a cup of coffee!”

With a small bow, he extended his arm for you to grasp. Breathing wearily through your nose, you took hold and allowed him to escort you back down into the Hotel's kitchen. A strange kind of energy seemed to settle in your bones, and you looked at him from the corner of your eye as he puttered about the kitchen, all thoughts of princesses and redemption gone from your mind for the moment. Distantly, tinny music reached your ears as Irving Aaronson's smooth timbre implored you to _misbehave_.

The sigils scattered on you body still burned brightly, having yet to fade after such intimate contact, but the emptiness in your chest didn't seem as wholly consuming anymore.

_there's something wild about you child that's so contagious_

You lifted yourself to sit on the tidy counter-top, content to just watch him. Occasionally he would pause to press a kiss to your lips and once the coffee was set to brew, he came to stand between your legs, pressing himself into you as though to fit the shape of your form. He trailed his nose along the length of your own before moving to drag his lips across the mark on your neck; a small flash of his teeth had it open again and you found yourself tilting your head to give him better access while he took his fill.

He hummed, more than pleased with your response; the sensation tickled you, an errant giggle puffing past your lips. Alastor pulled back and flashed you an alarmingly charming smirk, before he shifted you into his arms and promptly began twirling you around the space, his radio music growing louder with his gleefulness. He manipulated you effortlessly in his arms until he returned you, out of breath and blushing heavily, to the counter. With a flourish, he handed you a mug of black coffee, his grin so wide that his eyes crinkled; it was with a startling rush of affection, you came to the realization that you were in fact, for the perhaps the second time in your Afterlife, completely _up the creek_.

_if you'd be just so sweet and only meet your fate dear_

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats nervously*  
> I had full intentions to make this a long suffering, slow burn...I have mixed feelings about how this turned out but I've been worrying over it for so long now, I decided to just take the plunge and post it.  
> Thank you for sinning with me! ;)


End file.
